THE FLAMES SEEMED TO LEAPFROG DOWN THE street. Atkins and Elizabeth had taken cover behind a low brick wall that extended from the side of a building. They felt a hot wind blast over them, a gale pulled along by the fire.
All the buildings that lined the street were burning. Flames poured from windows and shot through roofs. These were mainly commercial buildings in this part of town. They were going to burn for a long time.
Atkins could only shake his head in disbelief and gratitude. He grabbed Elizabeth and hugged her. It had been her idea to use the brick wall as a shield. It had saved their lives—and their equipment. He’d cradled the laptop and seismograph they’d used in Blytheville. Elizabeth had the computer disks and tapes from the building they’d just left.
“I wasn’t sure it would work,” she said.
“I wasn’t worried for a minute,” Atkins said, grinning.
Fortunately, the flames hadn’t coalesced into a firestorm that would have kept burning until it consumed every scrap of combustible material. If it had, both of them knew they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
They quickly retraced their steps and were soon out of the worst of the smoke. It was easier to breathe. Atkins saw a street sign. Poplar Avenue. Somehow they’d worked their way back to the street that he hoped would take them near the University of Memphis.
The streets were completely blocked with stranded cars. Many of the drivers had simply walked away, often leaving their keys in the ignition.
Atkins and Elizabeth reached Overton Park. A large sign said: MEMPHIS ZOO AND AQUARIUM.
“Listen,” Elizabeth said.
They heard the howls of terrified animals trapped in their cages. Some of the trees in the park had ignited in the fire.
An olive-colored Humvee with Tennessee National Guard markings pulled up next to them.
“Better watch it around here,” the driver called out. “We’re using explosives.” Two soldiers had walked around to the rear of the vehicle and removed what looked like backpacks. Each man slung one of the packs over a shoulder and moved off into the neighborhood.
Atkins and Elizabeth kept walking. They’d gone a couple more blocks when an explosion jarred them. It was followed in rapid succession by three more.
They saw flames spurting into the sky.
Elizabeth knew immediately what they were doing. She’d seen it once before in California when fires raced through the scrub hills surrounding Los Angeles and threatened to get out of control.
“They’re dynamiting homes, trying to set up firebreaks,” she said. “Those fires must still be spreading.”
Another military vehicle with a loudspeaker moved slowly down the street, often driving up on the sidewalk to get around the abandoned cars and trucks. A soldier warned residents to evacuate.
This was an exclusive residential area with fine, old homes. Almost all of them appeared to have sustained major damage. Many had already been abandoned. Some people had pitched tents in their yards.
The explosions continued. They were blasting the firebreak right along Poplar, hoping they could stop the fire before it spread too far into the mid-city area. People were rushing up to the soldiers, begging them not to destroy their houses, young and old, some of them in tears. Atkins saw a sergeant grab a man who’d swung at him and throw him to the ground.
Elizabeth remembered reading accounts of how soldiers had fired on residents in San Francisco who tried to stop them from blowing up homes after the 1906 earthquake. They’d also used their bayonets on looters. Thieves had been shot on sight.
The wind had changed again. Atkins noticed that it was blowing hard in their direction. The sky had the same reddish cast.
“Do you smell that?” he asked Elizabeth.
“Gas,” she said. The odor was very strong.
“Think you can run?”
Elizabeth nodded.
The smell of gas was almost overpowering. A single spark could ignite it. Atkins thought. Even one from a flashlight being turned on.
They’d run about two hundred yards when the explosion ripped through the neighborhood. They’d managed to get about three blocks away from Poplar. Looking back, they saw flames shooting out of the sewers. A row of fine, half-timbered homes Atkins had admired moments earlier no longer existed.